Through the Serpentine Path
by NomadicStardust
Summary: Harry Potter, abused, beaten, and near death makes a run for it, away from his horrible family! Will a new life make everything better? Or will this winding path lead back to where it started! Slytherin!Harry and Abused! Harry
1. The Pain of Happenstance

Harry Potter lay quietly in his cupboard under the stairs, knowing any minute that his Aunt Petunia would be down to demand that his chores begin. He had long taught himself to be awake before her summons; for to be slow in rising earned him a beating and no breakfast. Still, at nearly eleven, he failed to wake early on occasion, and the beating from the day before last could still be seen in his blackened eye and ribs decorated in multicolored bruises.

The boy was used to such injuries. Petunia and Vernon would often punish him, whether for moving too slowly, being in the way, or even for strange things that just happened. Harry was also Dudley's favorite punching bag. The whale Harry was forced to call cousin often came around with his gang to pin Potter and pummel him until what little food he'd manage to consume that day would come up. A lack of food and constant beatings had left the boy with nothing but bruised skin hanging on brittle bones; making his hand-me down clothes look even bigger on his frame and leaving him with an uncontrollable shake in his hands. Harry did not much like his appearance.

There was only one thing that the boy did liked about himself; a white scar on his forehead that looked like lightning. Harry felt that the scar set him apart from the Dursleys and would often dream of fantastic stories of how he had received it, although he was sure all of them were nothing more than fantasies. Harry wasn't quite sure where the scar had come from. He'd had it for as long as he could remember, and he knew better than to ask his Aunt and Uncle anything, so making up stories was the best he could do.

A jingle of chain warned Harry that it was time to begin his day. Aunt Petunia threw open the unlocked cupboard and thrust a spatula into his hands.

"Cook the breakfast boy," she demanded, staring down at him as if he were a bug she longed to crush. " And you had better not burn anything."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," replied Harry as he quickly rose and darted out of the cupboard, spatula in hand. From the ingredients set on the counter, bacon, eggs, and toast seemed to be the menu of the day. He got to work, flinching every time scalding bacon grease hit his hands, while his Aunt filled the kitchen table with a mountain of gifts.

Harry groaned inwardly, he had nearly forgotten that today was Dudley's Birthday. It was his least favorite day, next to Christmas and his own birthday, and he knew it meant that today would be filled with plenty of pain. Last year, to celebrate, Dudley had tied him to a tree in the backyard and practiced with his new BB gun, with Harry as the target. It was to the restrained boy's greatest relief when the lard had sat on, and bent, the gun after only three days. This year could only be worse.

As if thoughts could summon him. Harry could hear the giant thuds of an overweight hippo running down the stairs. The smaller boy shrank backed as a winded Dudley burst into the kitchen, followed by a more leisurely paced Vernon Dursley.

"Happy Birthday Duddykins!" squealed Mrs. Dursley as her son began counting the presents. Vernon sat down in a chair barely capable of holding him, chuckling at his sons enthusiasm. Glimpsing Harry cowing from the corner of his eye, his expression turned to one of rage and disgust.

"What are you doing just standing there boy," barked Vernon. "Hurry up and serve my breakfast!" Harry jumped into action and quickly made three plates heaped with hot, greasy bacon and eggs. Two of the plates had enough on them to easily serve two regular people, or three on diets, but the boy knew that his uncle and cousin would clean their plates of every scrap and still want. The third plate was more of a regular serving, although it looked practically tiny compared to the heaps on the other plates, and was the perfect size for his skinny aunt.

Harry stood to the side has his relatives dug in, discussing their plans for the day. The boy knew better than to ask for a share; he would get whatever burnt scraps were left after they were done.

"Hurry and eat now Dudley my boy." said Mr. Dursley between the mounds of food he shoveled into his maw. "Don't want to be late getting to the zoo; want to get our money's worth."

"But I still have to open my presents!" Protested Dudley loudly. Chunk of food flew from his mouth and from Harry's vantage point he could see a large chunk of egg now hanging from one of the gifts.

"Don't worry Duddy," Mrs. Dursley comforted her son. "Your gifts will still be there this afternoon, at the party with all your little friends."

Before Dudley could argue the phone rang. Petunia quickly answered it as her son decided to return his full attention to stuffing as much food as possible into his mouth. Potter stared on, both disgusted and jealous. It did not take long for his aunt to return, with a look of worry on her face.

"What's wrong Petunia, dear?" her husband asked, face now pressed to the morning paper. "One of Dudley's friends not able to make it?"

"That was Mrs. Figg," she said slowly, almost as if she couldn't believe it. "It appears she can't take the boy today; suffering from a broken foot."

Everyone froze, for just a split second as their brains processed the information. Harry recovered first, shirking away in a desperate attempt for the door. He knew that the Dursleys would blame him, just like they did when anything else went wrong. But before he could take more than a step, Vernon was on top of him, face purple with rage.

"BOY!" he shouted, lunging for Harry's cowering figure, fists curled. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"Nothing, I didn't do ANYTHING!" cried Harry as Mr. Dursley's meaty clubs found their mark, striking harry arm and torso with heavy blows. "I didn't even know Mrs. Figg got hurt!"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Vernon roared, spittle flying everywhere. "YOU PLANNED FOR THIS TO HAPPEN!"

The abuse continued until the boy was unable to do more than cry incoherently. Finally Petunia pulled her husband off the boy, but not before his fat fist clipped Harry's black eye, causing him to black out.


	2. A New Friend

Harry awoke to being doused in water. Spluttering, he turned up to find Mr. Dursley above him holding a dripping bucket, a cruel smile on his lips. Laughing darkly at the boy's reaction, the older man tosses the bucket aside.

"I'm sure you thought that you would get to come with us if nobody could watch you, boy." he drawled, watching Harry gasp on the floor. "But we certainly can't reward you for such things, no, and we also cannot leave you alone in the house; you might set the whole thing on fire and then where would we be." Harry had recovered enough to notice that he was laying somewhere that smelled of gasoline, but he couldn't quite focus yet. His uncle continued on.

"We could tie you up outside, but if the neighbors saw you there would be questions. And we can't have that. But the shed, it seems, is the perfect answer." Finally, in his swimming, blurry vision, Harry could see that his was in, what had to be, the small garden shed in the back of the house. Pots and fertilizer lined the shelves on the wall, and he shared the concrete floor with the lawnmower. "It's small, enclosed, and far enough away from the house that even if you set the shed on fire, you won't damage the house.

"Once I lock the door there will be no way out, but I will admit to taking some cautionary measures anyways." Vernon grinned as he kicked a chain on the floor, one end attached to a post in the corner, the other attached to Potter's foot. "I'll let you out after the party tonight, so NO FUNNY BUSSINESS." Nearly spitting his last words, Mr. Dursley slammed the door shut. Harry could hear the lock click in place and the Dursleys drive off.

The boy didn't move for a long time, knowing that anything he did would cause excruciating pain. Already it was difficult to breathe and Harry was pretty sure his left shoulder was dislocated. Finally, Harry gathered his courage and attempted to sit up. Pain attacked him as his destroyed body struggled to move. The boy screamed, but kept going, struggling through the agony. He could feel a wetness on his side, spreading as he moved, and something in his chest grated painfully. But eventually, Harry managed to sit upright and take stock of his injuries.

Harry's first action was to remove his shirt to see the damage. It took several attempts, but he was patient and, finally, got it off. His entire body was covered in bruises; some old and fading, but most very new and still growing. The wetness on his side was nasty gash bleeding slowly. not looking too serious, Harry pressed his shirt against it and moved on. The worst bruising was on his left side and from touch, and experience, Harry could tell that the damage went through the muscle and one of his ribs was out of place.

Deciding that relocate his rib and shoulder, lest they become stuck, Harry stood up. Shoulder first, so that he had full motion to adjust the rib, he grabbed one of the shelves with his bad arm and yanked backwards as hard as he could, ignoring the pain as much as possible. With an audible pop the shoulder slid back into place replacing the sharp pain with a dull ache. Breathing heavily, which hurt, he check the full motion of his arm and was relieved to find everything in order. Rib next, the boy grabbed a shelf above his head and hung there, taking deep breaths. after the third, excruciating inhale another pop could be heard as the rib returned to its proper location.

Feeling some relief, Harry sat back down. This was not the worst he had ever been beaten, but it was certainly high on the list. The shed was also a new addition. Harry could already feel sweat dripping into the cut in his side, making it burn. He was sure that the shed would become Mr. Dursley's favorite place to put Harry; it was hot, cramped, dirty, and was effective in keeping the boy in one place. All Harry could do was sit and wait for them to release him.

Several hours past in excruciating slowness. Harry was too hot to sleep and too sore to move, and so he sat there as a combination of pain, hunger and dehydration made the small room spin. It was sometime after noon before anything happened. Harry was dreaming about how wonderful it would be to have a glass of cold water, or even a sip from the hose, when he heard a small hiss. At first, the boy thought he had imagined it; he had, after all, been it this shed for hours and was quite sure the heat had gotten to him, but the hiss sounded again. This time Harry could pinpoint the source of the noise. To his right, he saw a small hole at the bottom of the shed, where a rather large snake had slipped through.

'Please don't be venomous, please don't be venomous,' thought Harry muddily, but the zig zag pattern of the scales was undeniable, even to Harry's blurry vision; it was a venomous adder. The boy cursed his luck, of the three snakes native to England, he just had to get the only poisonous one. The snake was obviously agitated that it's home was being occupied by a large, sweaty human, and it's tailed flick as it hissed again. Harry was sure he was going nuts now, because he'd swear that he could understand the snake.

 _"Go Awayssss..."_ hissed the snake, his head rearing back _. "Or you ssssshall regretsss it."_

"I would leave if I could," replied the boy, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "but I'm stuck in here; so if you want to bite me go ahead. It not like I can stop you."

The adder, which had been preparing to strike, halted, instead bending it's head to the side like it was confused. _"Never havessss I hear a human that ssspeak the tongue of sssnakesss. Man, who are you to know my wordsss?"_

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter." muttered the boy. He was trying very hard not to think about the ramifications of a talking snake. "I don't know about any snake language, but it sounds like plain English to me."

The viper came closer, sliding near Harry's knee. _"I have heardsss of magic men whom sssspeak freely with sssscaled onesss. Perhapsss Harry Potter is a magic mansss."_

 **'If I were magic I would use it to get out of here, not to talk to snakes,'** thought Harry dryly. Keeping his thoughts silent he instead said, "If I'm a magic man, I'm not a very good one."

A quick tongue flick tickled the boy's leg as the snake touched his leg. When Harry didn't flinch, the snake climbed onto him and leisurely made his way up to the boy's chest. _"Thissss one would not know, I have heard only ssstoriesss."_ whispered the snake. _"Many talessss older than the oldessssst sssnakesss and I am young, only two matingsss old."_

Sitting on top of the boy's heart, the adder lifted so that its ruby eyes were level with his. Harry, who by then was getting quite worried about the venomous snake crawling on him, stayed very still as, from this close, Harry could make out the individual black markings on the silver snake.

" _Ssstill_ ," continued the viper. " _Harry Potter isss very interesssting. I wouldsss very much like to accompany you_." Harry blinked, and blinked again, not quite sure what to make of the reptile's request.

"Like a p-pet?" the boy stammered stupidly.

" _Nothing likesss those loud, fithy beastsss that man chainsss in hisss yard. I have no interssst in being Harry Potter'sss ssslave."_ The snake leaned even closed to Potter, their faces nearly touching. " _I wouldssss be your familiar, your friend. We would work together to get thingssss we both dessssire. Issss thisss acceptable?"_

Harry nodded. He was not entirely sure he had made the right choice, but he was alive and he was pretty sure the snake didn't plan to bite him anymore, rather it appeared he had made a friend, so it couldn't be all bad.

" _Then the bond hassss been ssstuck."_ announced the snake, obviously proud of itself. " _Thisss one and Harry Potter ssshall be assss one until the Great Sssserpent devourssss ussss all."_

Harry shivered at the thought of being devoured by a giant snake, but decided not to ask about it. A different question formed on his lips instead. "So what do I call you?"

" _Ssscaled onesss have no need of namessss, ssso if Harry Potter wishesss for one, he mussst give it."_

Harry had never named anything before, aside from some of the characters in his dreams, and he knew very little about snakes and good names for them. So while he thought, the adder moved up and curled himself lightly around the boy's neck.


	3. Freedom

Hours after the sun set, Harry finally heard someone approach the shed. Lips cracked and slightly dizzy, he had been dozing when the sound of chains rattling jerked him awake. The sudden movement caused the viper, who Harry decided to call Mara after a snake he saw on one of Dudley's TV shows, to fall off his neck. With a small hiss Mara slunk off to hide, just in time, as the door of the shed flew open. Vernon's girth filled the small doorway as his sharp gaze focused his disheveled nephew.

"Still alive boy?" he spat. "Yes, I suppose I can't be that lucky, still perhaps next time..." Reaching down, Vernon removed the shackle around Harry's leg. "Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and keep you here tomorrow too".

The idea seemed to fill his Uncle with a sense of glee. The boy quickly stood up, holding on to the shelves for balance. His dizziness worsened with his fist step and he pitched forward, eating pavement to the delight of the mass of fat above him. Not wanting to give in, Harry crawled, in agonizing slowness, out of the garden shed.

"Useless thing," said Mr. Dursley darkly after the boy collapsed in the yard, "Don't know what possessed us to keep you, but you can be sure that our tolerance with you is at an end. We've finally found a place that will take you. Starting next year you will be attending St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. And you will wish you were back in our tender care, sure enough."

Walking away, the large man left is nephew curled, un-moving in a fetal position in the yard. Harry didn't budge until the evening sprinklers turned on, and only then to move into a position to catch some water in his parched mouth.

Eventually, when Harry felt a little better and Mara had returned from hiding, they wobbled their way inside, the snake whispering encouragement all the way. One glance his way had Petunia ordering him to his cupboard, disgusted at the dirt he was tracking into her beautiful house, and he went quietly.

 _"Whatssss the planssss"_ whispered Mara once they were safely tucked in the cupboard. The adder was not amused with the tiny space he was sharing with his new friend. There was a plan, of course; Harry was going to sneak out of his cupboard one his aunt and uncle were asleep and get food and water, but the boy was pretty sure this was not the plan the snake was referring to.

 _"I can bite them,"_ the snake continued, assuring Harry that the serpent had completely different goals than him. _"Or perhapssss you wish to run awayssss inssstead. We could alwayssss do both assss well."_

"As tempting as that sounds," said Harry, chuckling at his new friends enthusiasm. "I can't leave yet."

 _"And why not?"_ retorted Mara. flipping around to stare harry in the eye. _"Issss Harry Potter bound to thissss place? Or issss Harry Potter ssscared?"_

"I'm not scared! he said quickly. "But I need some food before I even think of leaving; and even if we do run away, we have no money to go anywhere."

 _"I have heard of thissss... moneysss. Menssss use to it to obtain prey and ride in the belly of monssstersss."_

"Right... I think. We can't go anywhere without at least a couple pounds for the underground." Mara twisted about, looking to Harry like a very confused noodle. After a couple minutes, the noodle stopped twisting and made their way to the cupboard door.

 _"Find your prey and sssstrike, Harry Potter. I will sssecure the moneyssss."_ instructed the adder before slipping under the door. The boy decided that his new serpent friend was decidedly weird, before slipping out of the cupboard himself to check that the Dursleys were asleep. Secure that all of them were snoring, he raided the kitchen for anything to eat that wouldn't be missed.

Harry had already eaten his meager feast of toast, a boiled egg, and an apple and was feeling slightly more energetic, when Mara hissed for him to open the cupboard door. The silver snake had returned with a wallet clutched tightly in his coils.

 _"I did not even have to fight for it,"_ explained the adder as Harry checked out the contents of the wallet. _"The moment the mansss noticed that I lay upon it, he retreatssss."_

The wallet was decently thick and held several identification cards, a coupon to a some sort of gym, and a couple hundred quid. Feeling quite guilty, the boy took all the cards and the coupon out of the wallet and put them under the floorboards; maybe they'd be found and returned one day. Mara, who was quite pleased with himself, wrapped himself languidly around Harry's neck and fell promptly asleep.

A potato sack the boy snagged from the rubbish pile worked well to pack his few belongings; the best of the clothes in his pile of Dudley's hand-me-downs, a screwdriver he had taken from the shed several weeks ago, and his few treasures including an armless toy soldier, a Swiss army knife he had found on the street with a broken file, and a stick which he had once used to send Dudley flying; he wasn't quite sure how such a thin twig had thrown such a massive target, but Harry kept it anyways... just in case. Sneaking back to the kitchen he grab a bit more food and added it to his bag.

Finally Harry silently made his way to Dudley's second bedroom, where his lard of a cousin kept all the toys he broke. Inside he could see the BB gun that Dudley sat on, a TV that his cousin had put his foot though, and a racing bike, obviously received today, that seemed to be in pretty good shape, other than the chains being tangled. Harry stared at the bike; he hadn't planned to take it, having only come up to grab one of the unused books that showed maps of England, but it was horribly tempting to use it to make a clean getaway.

In the end, Potter decided against it, stealing something that large in his escape would give the Dursleys and excuse to send the police after him. He did however switch out the potato sack for a backpack, which was easier to carry even with one of the straps broken.

Near dawn and ready to leave, Harry silently made his way to the door, Mara still asleep on his shoulders. Just about to go, he noticed an envelope sitting on the doormat and it was addressed to him. Harry picked it up and stared at it. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. He had no friends or relatives who would, he was not even allowed to go to the library so he knew it wasn't them either. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so there could be no mistake:

 _Mr. H. Potter  
_ _The Cupboard Under the Stairs  
_ _4 Privet Drive  
_ _Little Whinging  
_ _Surrey_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment and the address was written in green ink. Turning over the envelope, the boy saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding the letter H. Before Harry could try to open it, he heard movement upstairs. Shoving the letter into his bag, Harry Potter left Number 4 Privet Drive in the hopes of never returning.

Exiting the house, the boy moved quickly, fear of discovery nipping at his heels. His aunt, an early riser, would be up any minute and Harry wanted as much distance between them as possible. Reaching the end of Privet Drive, he began to jog, turning North where he knew there was a bus stop. The jarring motion woke Mara, who tightened his hold on the boy for fear of his constant malnutrition, the boy was quite fast and they made good time to the bus stop. A quick glance told Harry that the next bus would arrive soon, how soon he wasn't sure though as he never owned a watch and didn't think to take one. Worry kept him pacing as they waited; any moment now his aunt and uncle would be after him and he needed to be on that bus before they found him.

A glint of reflected sunlight notified Harry in of the incoming bus. Making sure Mara was well hidden in his collar, he bounced on his toes as bus slowly made its way to him and opened its doors.

"Arn't ye a little young t' be riddin the bus all on yer own?" asked the driver as Harry pulled out the wallet and counted out the right amount. "Where are yer parents?"

"At home waiting for me," lied Harry. "I was spending the night at a friend's house."

The driver shrugged, not actually caring, and handed the boy his ticket. Harry noticed there went many other on the bus; a couple of business men on their way to work and what appeared to be a homeless man, sleeping in his seat. Making his way to the back, the boy sat down and turned to see out the rear window. There at the end of the street was Mr. Dursley, still in his night clothes, running for the bus.

Dread filled Harry as he watched his uncle get closer. His plan, which admittedly had only been hap hazardously formed with Mara last night, was falling apart. Harry knew if Vernon got a hold of him it was over, and he wouldn't survive the summer. Ready to jump up and make a run for it rather than sit there and wait for his uncle to catch him, the bus closed its doors and drove off. Through the window, Harry could see Mr. Dursley standing in the middle of the street, filled with now futile rage. Laughing at the sight, the boy turned around reveled in the relief that now filled him.

* * *

 **A/N:** I really should spread these chapter releases out, but eh... enjoy them. Thank you everyone who has Reviewed thus far. I read them all, so please continue to post your responses!


	4. To Find a Leaky Cauldron

Harry was out by the time the bus got on the motorway. A lack a sleep, along with the punishment he received the day before, took a huge toll on his body and made it impossible to resist the gentle sway of the bus. Mara tried to keep watch at first, but even he was exhausted, so the two slept. It felt like no time at all before he was being woken up. Still groggy he looked up to find the homeless man, gently shaking him.

"Time to wake up," said the man as Harry sat up. "This is your stop, right? Downtown London."

Looking about the boy could see that they had stopped in what appeared to be a thriving shopping district. Harry hadn't thought about his destination, which, if nothing else, showed how poorly planned his dash for freedom was, but he suppose this was as good a place as any to get his bearings. The homeless man helped Harry to the front of the bus, where the driver was waiting rather impatiently.

"Thanks for your help," said Harry as the man watched him get off.

"A word of wisdom before you go Mr. Potter," he replied, a smile on his lips. "If your look for a place to stay, head towards the Leaky Cauldron and they'll set you straight."

Harry was about to ask how the man knew his name but the bus already turning the corner out of sight. Slightly confused, and more than slightly apprehensive, he left the bus stop and headed deeper into the busy streets.

Having never been into anything busier than a neighborhood market, the boy taken aback at the sheer amount of people everywhere. He felt like the entire world had to be on that street, going about their lives in a the most boisterous way possible.

" _Letssss find a place to ssssit_." urged the snake on his neck. _"Before mansss begin to sssstep on ussss."_

So Harry found a small table off the street, near an empty building that appeared to have once been a cafe. Setting Mara on the table, he took out the book of maps and the food he had stashed away. He dug in as he combed the book looking for a map of Downtown London.

"So here we are," said Harry, pointing at the shopping district he found on the map. " And over here Kings Cross, where we can take a train anywhere." He pointed to another area of the map. Mara studied the detailed view of the city, finally shaking his head.

 _"I cannot tell what these linesss mean,"_ admitted the adder _. "Our path sssshall be your decissssion"_

"I'm not sure I would be very good at that, I've never been outside of Little Whinging... maybe we should follow that guy's advice and find this Leaky Cauldron place. At least it's a place to start."

So Harry finished his food and Mara went back to his place on the boys shoulders. Harry giggled a little at the thought that he was letting a venomous serpent hang out around his neck without worry, but in the end he was grateful for the adder's company so they moved on. Assuming the Leaky Cauldron was close by, the two made their way through the streets nearby the bus stop. They found shops, cafes, bars, hotels, and even a park, yet not one place called the Leaky Cauldron. Noon came and went as the boys combed, and re-combed, the plaza. Finally exhausted of walking, the boy wandered over to the park to sit and rest.

" _Perhapssss lisssstening to the man wassss madnessss._ " whined the snake, he had a headache from trying to read human signs. " _Who knowssss if it exisssstsss."_

"Why would a stranger go out of his way to tell us to go to the Leaky Cauldron if it didn't exist?" debated the boy.

" _Why doesssss man do anything?_ "

"Come on, one more search," sighed Harry as he got to his feet. He was not quite ready to give up. "If we don't find it we'll go stay in one of those hotels for the night. Maybe that one with the ice cream in front?"

" _Perhapssss it will have a meal for me assss well_." replied Mara, flipping his tail in anticipation.

Harry laughed at Mara's enthusiasm as they turned down Charing Cross Road, and dragged his hand across the front of the stores. Passing the record store he stopped. The boy didn't remember there being a dark gray building after red music store. Looking up he saw an old, metal sign of a witch stirring a cauldron and the words LEAKY CAULDRON wrapping around the doorway. He backed up, not taking his eyes of the unassuming building for fear it would disappear.

"I swear this wasn't here before." mumbled Harry. "We walked this street four times already."

" _Thingsss are not alwayssss asss they appear.._." returned the adder _. "But we are here, so let ussss enter_." Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harry walked into the pub.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was just as dingy as its exterior, but it looked far larger, and more crowded, than Harry thought. The majority of the seats were taken and filling them were men and women in strange, flowing outfits in a rainbow of colors and tall, pointed hats. A man, whose looked as if he could be a hundred, stood behind the bar cleaning glasses with a dirty cloth.

As people noticed Harry's entrance they quieted and soon the entire pub was silent, every eye turned on Harry. The boy was about to turn and make a run for it when one man stood up. He took a few steps forward, looking as though he was trying to remember something long ago.

"Bless my hat," he finally exclaimed, eyes going wide. "It's Harry Potter!" As if his words broke a spell, the entire pub swarmed the boy. But rather than attack him, as Harry had feared, they began to shake his hand.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter," exclaimed one rather tiny fellow. "And I must tell you what an honor it is to finally meet you!"

"Randy Goodfellow, Mr. Potter," claimed another, pushing tiny Doris out of the way. "Wonderful to finally see you in person."

"Albert Merkwood," said the next, grasping his hand tightly. "I must invite you to my house for tea.

Person after person came forward to shake Harry's hand and Doris himself returned again and again, as if he couldn't get enough of meeting the confused ten year old. Harry was quickly becoming claustrophobic surrounded by the press of strangers, and Mara was not happy either; hissing quietly as he sunk deeper into the boy's collar. Eventually it was too much and the boy tried to struggle against the mob that surrounded him. It was completely overwhelming and, with no idea why any of this was happening, the boy began to panic.

"What is this foolishness," demanded a voice Harry couldn't see. The mob retreated slightly and opened so that the boy could see who was saving him. Near the stairs was a tall, pale man clothed entirely in black. A head of greasy black hair and a hooked noise made him appear less than desirable and his dark eyes were filled with contempt for the crowd, but all Harry cared about was that the man had saved him.

"Ah, Harry Potter," drolled the man turning his gazed to the boy. "Our new celebrity. Tell me, where is your guardian?"

"Guardian? repeated the boy. The man walked forward so that Harry had to crane his neck back to look the man is his face.

"Do no answer my question with another. Yes, Guardian. The one who brought you here, the adult who is watching over you. Did you give them the slip perhaps? Thought you could bask in you fame without supervision?"

"N-no one brought me here. A man on a bus told me-"

"Ah, so Mr. Harry Potter thought that he could get his own supplies for Hogwarts. Do you feel invincible because you defeated the Dark Lord. Or perhaps you just a troublemaker..."

"Wha- what's Hogfarts? I-I don't know anything you're talking about." The tears Harry had been fighting began to flow as he tried to explain himself through his shaking. "I was told I could find a place to stay if I came here." The man stared down at the boy, as if trying to see through him. Finally he turned to the bartender.

"Tom," he said. "I am taking Mr. Potter to my room. As he is here without chaperone I will be taking responsibility of him." Tom nodded once and the man took Harry's arm and led him forcibly up the stairs into one of the rooms.


	5. The Barkeeper and the Potion Master

Harry sat quietly on the bed the man had placed him on, head spinning slightly; everything was happening so fast. The man who had saved him from the clutches of the mob paced the room, muttering about senile old men who send him on equally senile tasks that lead trouble. They boy wasn't sure what it meant, but was content to stay quiet and calm his nerves with the help of Mara, whose cool scales were very grounding.

"Stay where you are Potter, I'll be back," commanded the man, as he quickly left room.

" _We sssshould not have entered thissss place_ ," whispered Mara after the door closed. The adder slipped from Harry's neck to curl around his arm instead. " _To many mensss know you_."

"I don't even know how," replied the boy, lifting the snake close so their conversation remained quiet. "I've never met any of these people! They act like I'm some sort of movie star."

" _If mansss believesss your famoussss, and findsss out you are not, they may come to crusssh you. Man mensss enjoy crushing the weak_."

"But he saved us from that mob, so maybe he's different."

" _He saved you, yessss, but now you are here alone, and when he returnssss, you will be alone with him."_

Harry shrugged and winced slightly, his bruised ribs ached all the more after spending the day trying to find the strange pub, that they were now they were talking about leaving. Before Harry could reply that he would rather take his chances with the man, a knock sounded from the door and in walked the barman, and apparently innkeeper, Tom with a tray of food. Tom flashed a smile in the boy's direction, reminding Harry of a bald, toothless walnut, and beckoned the boy over to the table where he was setting up the meal. Cautious, Harry made his way over, with Mara still wrapped around his hand.

"Thought you might be hungry," said the innkeeper as Harry sat himself down. The food look delicious, with a thick beef stew filled with hearty chunks of meat, slices of fresh bread covered in butter, and a large glass of something called pumpkin juice. "You looked a bit malnourished when you were downstairs, but now that I get a good look at you, I can see you're downright starved; nothing but skin and bones!"

With a nod from the wizened barman, Harry dug in, spoon in his snake-free hand. The boy did not remember a time he had eaten food like this. For as long as he could remember, he lived off the scraps leftover from the Dursley's meals and whatever he could sneak from the kitchen. The stew had to be the best thing Harry had ever eaten, and he couldn't put it in his mouth fast enough.

"Careful boy," warned Tom, laughing at the boy's enthusiasm. "Eat too quickly and your be sick; and this meal's not quite as good the second time around." The boy slowed slightly, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice.

"Going back to what I was saying before," Tom continued. "I'm sure the professor is going to want to know who treated you this badly. Starving, with the bruises of make for tales of beatings; and not just that shiner on your face - I can see how gently you move yourself boy, you've been hurt badly. Wherever you were, it was no place for someone as famous as yourself."

"Me? Fa-famous?" spluttered Harry, choking on his pumpkin juice. Mara unwound himself from the boy and moved a ways down the table, tail flicking in the agitation of getting splattered by flying spit. "I think you all have the wrong Harry because that's impossible."

"Of course it's possible," cackled the bartender. "Why else would those cracknobs downstairs get so worked up. You're Harry Potter, the-boy-who-live, vanquisher of he-who-must-not-be-named. The entire wizarding world knows your name."

"That will be all Tom," said a voice from the doorway. It seem the man had returned while the two were talking and now stood impatiently with, what appeared to be, several letters in hand. "I have matters to discuss with Mr. Potter... privately."

With a nod and a wink, the innkeeper excused himself, leaving Harry alone, one again with the man who had not yet given his name. Shutting the door behind Tom, the man made his way over to the table and sat opposite of Harry. Mara, still quite distrustful, hissed quietly and stood tall, a small guardian between the man and the boy. Ignoring the adder, the man arranged himself and his documents, while somehow managing to look intimidating at the same time. Only once everything was ready, did he look at Harry.

"I suppose introductions are in order, as I doubt you have any idea who I am, or even where you are. I implore you to use whatever iota of judgment you possess to hold your questions and comments until I am finished." The man glanced at Harry, who looked as though he had been about to speak. Using his lifetime of practice, Harry restrained himself and merely nodded at the man. "I am Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a school that you have been invited to attend this coming year. This of course means that you, Mr. Potter, apparently have some potential in the Magical Arts.

"I have been informed," continued Snape, holding up one of the letters. "That you have lived with muggles, or rather non-magical individuals, for the past ten year after the death of your parents. And as Petunia has always been rather useless, it is safe to assume that her care has not granted you anything of particular merit."

Harry could feel something strangely personal in the Potion Master's last remark, as if Snape knew his aunt somehow, but Harry's reeling mind quickly lost track of the idea. Thoughts of fame and magic scrambled his brain in confusion so that, even if Snape had allowed him to speak, he wasn't sure he could ask anything. Luckily, or rather unluckily, Snape did not seem to be at the point of allowing questions and continued onwards.

"Mr. Potter, you have been placed under my care, until such a time that a more permanent solution to your lack of guardianship can be found. As such, until you are returned to your muggle family, you are my responsibility and I-"

A clattering of spoon stopped the professor short. Harry, with eyes wide, had dropped the utensil into the remains of his stew. Even from across the table, the boy's shaking was evident.

"You're going to send me b-back?" stammered the boy. "Back to the Dursleys?"

"Useless or not, Mr. Potter, they are you legal guardians and only living relatives. There is no reason not to return you."

"But what about that school you teach at?" Harry stood up, chair clattering to the floor, and began backing up towards his bag still on the bed. "Hogwarts, right? Didn't you say I going to go there?"

"Term does not begin until September 1st. Until school begins students are required to stay with their guardians, and you are not exempt from this."

"I'll die if I go back there." The words came quietly, but certain. Without shadow of a doubt, Harry knew he would not survive a return to Privet Drive.

"Melodramatic aren't we," Snape sneered, reaching into his robes. "Quite like your father; he too had flair for theatrics. Now have a seat Mr. Potter, before something happens that you regret."

Rather than answer, Harry grabbed his bag and ran for the door.


End file.
